


Tender Loving Care

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, POV Sherlock Holmes, Poor Molly, Season/Series 02, Sherlock Holmes Has a Heart, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Kissing, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 13:10:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5049820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sherlock has to deal with a pathologist who is not his preferred pathologist, he goes to Molly’s flat to find out why she wasn’t at her post and discovers she’s got the flu, and he decides to start nursing her back to health.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tender Loving Care

**Author's Note:**

> So among the prompts I got last night I got this delightful one from **creativereadingfanfiction** which said " _Sherlock show up to Molly's flat, upset that someone else is in the morgue instead of her. Then, he finds she's fallen ill with flu. He nurses her back to health and it ends with a kiss. "I'm still contagious," she protested weakly. "I don't care," he replied._ " I had a lot of fun with answering this. Just keep in mind that this is set somewhere in Series 2, post "A Scandal In Belgravia."

He had been expecting Molly to be there at the morgue, same as she always was on Monday mornings: cheerful disposition, smile at the ready, inquiring how his weekend had been. By now most detective inspectors at the Yard had to know he tended to avoid going to Barts unless it was at a time when Molly was there. He tried not to be obvious about it but it had become a habit. A rather blatant, obvious habit.

And it had been jarring to show up to get the post mortem on the “accidental” drowning death from Sunday night from her only to see Dr. Kleebirg in her place. The unwholesome looks that woman gave him set his teeth on edge. She was as old as his mother! She should have some sense of decorum and decency. He could get out of the morgue fast enough and he felt as though he needed to take a scalding hot shower afterward. Unfortunately, that was not an option.

It was only after the case was solved that he paid a visit to Molly’s flat. He wanted to know why she was not at her post. Why she had subjected him to the leering gaze of that…that cougar on the prowl for a conquest. He didn’t bother to knock, picking the lock with ease. One day he’d have a chat with her about upgrading her locks to something that a simpleton couldn’t pick, he realized as he let himself in and realized the central heating was turned up as high as it could go. In fact, it felt overly warm. He slipped off his Belstaff and draped it over the back of her chair as the shrill whistle of her kettle went off. He waited a moment to see if she came out to take the water off the stove, as she was making tea the old fashioned way, but after four minutes of the annoying shrill whistle she was nowhere to be seen.

Something was wrong.

He went to her coat rack and looked for a suitable weapon, in case there were intruders in the home and they were still about. There was an umbrella there, white with yellow rubber ducks. _Typical Molly,_ he thought to himself, hoping he didn’t need to break it over someone’s head because he didn’t have the faintest idea where he’d replace it. He peeked his head into her sitting room and stopped. Huddled in a mass of blankets on the sofa, her face just barely visible, was Molly. He relaxed at the sight, tossing the umbrella on the sofa against his Belstaff and then going into the kitchen to take the kettle off the heat.

Once he was in the kitchen he decided to just make the tea for the two of them. She had to be ill, he realized. Having the heat turned up and tucked under… He glanced back at her sleeping form on the sofa. Four blankets. Having the heat turned up and tucked under four blankets meant she must have the chills. If she set the kettle on she probably wanted some tea. While he was waiting for it to get ready he rummaged around to see what else there was for her. She needed sustenance. Soup would probably be best. Fortunately it looked as though she had some refrigerated cartons of soup, so he pulled out a potato and leek soup and began rummaging around for a pot to cook it in.

“I have…a tazer…” she said from the couch, her voice quiet and weak sounding.

“You do not,” he scoffed without turning towards her, finally finding a saucepan that would do the trick. “There’s no way you’d be within a hundred meters of one.”

“Oh, it’s just you,” she said, beginning to sit up.

“Lie back down,” he said. “You’re ill. You must be if you’re cocooned in blankets and your flat is as hot as a sauna.”

“Flu,” she said. “I feel miserable.”

“Well, I have tea steeping and I’m warming up soup,” he said. “I’ll make sure you’re better.”

“You don’t have to,” she protested.

“I’d rather have you in the morgue than that lecherous Dr. Kleebirg,” he said, making a face as he set the saucepan on the stove and put the soup into it. “Does she not realize that her leering at me makes me feel incredibly uncomfortable? It’s like I’m an attractive cut of meat.”

“I’d stare at you sometimes with a definite appreciation for your physical attributes,” Molly said in an amused tone.

“Well, you’re not old enough to be my mother,” he said in a huff. “And…I don’t mind if you do it.”

“Oh?” she asked, getting off the sofa and shuffling into the kitchen, still wrapped up in the blankets. “Why?”

“Because it’s not wildly inappropriate,” he said, focusing on stirring the soup so it didn’t burn. “And because I don’t mind you doing it. You’re… _you_. You’re Molly.”

“At least I know you like me,” she said, giving him a small smile.

“I’m moderately fond of you,” he said, turning slightly red at the ears.

“More than that, I’d say. You broke into my home to find out why I wasn’t at my post and instead of harping about being at the mercy of the cougar of the morgue you’re making me soup and tea. I’d say that means you’re more than moderately fond of me.”

“Fine,” he said. “I’m more than moderately fond of you. I’m quite fond of you. I enjoy your presence and I don’t like it when you’re not around. I…would rather have you be around than not.”

“Well, once I get better I’ll be back at my post. But I can make sure Mildred isn’t there when you need to be there. I can see if they can call in someone else, all right?”

“Thank you,” he said. “Now go lie back down so I can get you better so you can get to work sooner.”

She giggled slightly. “Fine, fine, fine.” She shuffled back to the sofa and a few minutes later the tea and the soup was done. He rummaged around some more and found a tray to set everything on, then prepared her tea for her and put some of the soup in a bowl, finding some saltines to put with it, and then taking it all out to her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. He eyed the spot on the sofa next to her. “May I?”

“If you want,” she said. He sat down next to her and watched her pick up the bowl of soup. She cradled it in her hands before pulling one away to pick up a spoon. Once she did she ate a spoonful of soup and then shut her eyes, a smile coming across her face. “Oh, that was a good idea. That was just what I needed.”

“So I made the right choice?” he said.

She nodded. “It was probably a better choice than the chicken soup, to be honest. This one is creamier and heartier.” She had another few spoonfuls, and then set the bowl down to have some of the saltines. “I just feel so drained of energy. I meant to get my flu shot but I’ve been so busy I just forgot, and I usually _never_ get sick. This just came out of nowhere, but I woke up this morning feeling all crummy and ill. I had just enough energy to get to the doctor and get medicine, but then I got home, started the tea and then just…dozed off.”

“I’m glad I got here when I did, then,” he said. “For all I know there could have been problems with leaving the kettle unattended on the stove.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Thank you for that.”

“You can thank me properly by returning to work tomorrow,” he said.

“I don’t think that’s likely,” she said. “Maybe Wednesday, but probably Thursday.”

“Oh,” he said quietly.

“I’ll see if I can get Dr. Freeman to come in until I’m better,” she said gently. “Would that be all right?”

“It’s better than Dr. Kleebirg, I suppose,” he said with a nod.

“Then I’ll call when I’m done with my meal.” She went back to her soup and saltines and he watched, rather entranced. He had often spent a lot of time covertly studying Molly since the Christmas party, but not in such intimate surroundings. He was honestly surprised she hadn’t kicked him right back out for letting himself in, to be honest. When she was done she got out her mobile and called the hospital, arranging the schedule for the next two days over the phone and then hanging up and looking at him. “Well, thank you for helping me feel better, Sherlock. I’m sure you have other things you’d rather be doing, though.”

“To be honest, I don’t,” he said, looking down. “I thought…perhaps you might want some company, at least until you fall asleep again.”

“I’d like that quite a bit,” she said with a smile. “I’d give you a quick peck on the cheek but I know you don’t like that sort of thing.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” he said before he really thought about it. She blinked and looked at him with wide eyes. “I mean…I wouldn’t mind an actual kiss, either, if you wanted.”

“Are you…are you sure?” she asked, as if she was unsure of what she was hearing.

He nodded slowly. “Quite sure.”

“I’m contagious,” she said.

He leaned in more towards her. “I don’t care,” he said quietly.

He watched as a wide smile blossomed on her face as she leaned in towards him as well. “All right, then,” she said before kissing him softly. He’d expected the kiss to be nice but he hadn’t expected it to be exquisite. He hadn’t expected it to be something he _needed_ like he needed his next breath. He hadn’t expected the breathy little moan in her throat that urged him on to pull her closer, and he certainly hadn’t expected her to push the blankets out of the way to get closer. But when they separated to catch their breath, eyes sparkling and wide smiles on their faces, he knew that neither of them would regret this.

Not even when he came down with the flu a week later.


End file.
